Three Wishes, Christmas Past
by MLaw
Summary: One of three parts for the December PicFic Tuesday challenge for section7mfu on Live Journal. Each part has a theme, Christmas Past, Present and Future, but are stand alone stories.


**Christmas Past**

Times were lean, but the little blond boy and his siblings were well taken care of and loved by their family. Though Illya Nickovich had no calendar, he knew like so many children did, Christmas would soon arrive. His mother and grandmother busied themselves, cleaning their home, doing what little decorating they could in preparation for the holy day.

The Soviet government frowned upon public displays of religion but there were those who still followed the old ways, celebrating the birth of the Christ. The Kuryakin family were ones who clung to those ways.

Christmas Eve arrived and young Illya spent it in church with his mother, babushka, sister Katiya and the twins Sasha and Misha. Sadly, Nicholaí Kuryakin and his eldest son Dimitry were off in the forest with the Romany cousins, helping to set up the winter camp with the resistance as part of their preparations for war with Germany. *

The priests and monks chanted and prayed as clouds of incense filled the air, though the crowd of people standing in St. Andrews was the smallest yet. Illya stared up at the red wall filled with the gilt icons high above his head and said his prayers as he'd been taught; though the excitement of gathering afterwards for the holy supper to break their fast filled his head. He let his eyes drift to the paintings in the white and gold dome towering above the iconostasis.

A small choir chanted along with the clergy, with their rich voices echoing throughout the baroque style church. They and many of the parishioners held candles to light the service as there was no electricity.

The government had not raided St. Andrews yet for the exquisite artwork, but it was feared the holy place would soon be closed and its religious people taken away to re-education camps.

The older priest, Father Demya rose to the pulpit to give his sermon, but Illya's attention had already drifted to the smell of food and spices wafting up from the church basement.

Once the service had concluded, the people were led down to one of the many rooms that made up the basement, where they would celebrate the Holy Supper.

Normally such a tradition would be held in one's home but having it at the church allowed for the pooling of food resources so all could partake, as some had little food in their homes, and might not survive the harsh winter.

The Holy Supper was in honor of the Christ Child and included white table cloths symbolic of Christ's swaddling, hay for poverty, a white candle for "the Light of the World", and a large loaves of bread, "pagach" for the "Bread of Life".

The Lord's Prayer was recited by Father Demya, followed by the mothers of each family blessing their brood with honey in the form of a cross on the forehead.

Finally, the meal began with the singing of the Christmas troparion and the lighting of a candle placed in the center of each table, symbolizing the star of Bethlehem. The bread was then broken by just one of the fathers and given to everyone present, as many of the men had been taken to join the Red Army.

The meal, though meatless to honor the Lenten tradition, kept the mood content but the whispers of war weighed heavily upon everyone's hearts as Germany swept across Europe.

Despite that, it was made cheerful enough for the children, with a visit being paid to them by Father Frost and the Snow Maiden, bearing toys for the little ones..._petrushkas, matryoshkas, _painted clay figures and wooden animals made by some of the neighbors.

Illya knew Father Frost and the Maiden weren't real, even at his young age. They were just people dressed in threadbare costumes, but he liked them anyway. As their gifts, Katiya was given a set of nesting dolls, and Illya, a little carved pony, all painted in bright colors, but the most special things he received that night were from his grandmother and mother.

"Illyusha, you must treasure this," Baba said, handing him a brass pocket watch. He knew instantly who it once belonged to, a man he'd never met.

"This was your grandfather's watch," she smiled at him, running her fingers through his silky blond hair. She decided to give it to the boy, even though he was too young to carry a timepiece, but knew he'd be careful with it. Her oldest grandson, Dimitry had no mind for such things and would probably lose it. Illya was the clever one, and there was little doubt he would understand the workings of the watch in no time and honor it as an heirloom.

"I know and I promise I will take good care of it," Illya said so seriously.

"And this is my gift to you," Tanya Kuryakina said to her son. She handed him a folded piece of paper. "_Eto vse moya lyubovʹ k vam. nositʹ yego s soboy vsegda_it is all my love to you_. _Carry it with you always."_

Illya took the letter from his mother, not reading it, but instead kissed it and tucked it and the watch inside his little black cap, and put it back on his head.

Winds whistled through the street as they walked down the winding cobblestones of St. Andrews Descent, but little did they know this would be the last time they would be in church together.

Snow began to drift down from the an angry sky as they left the city and started their trek homewards to the little red dacha on the western outskirts of Kyiv.

When at last arriving home, Tanya put wood in the fireplace and had the flames roaring in no time to ward off the frigid night. Winter had arrived with its full fury and soon they would be cut off from the outside world as the snow deepened.

Everyone changed to warm dry clothes. Katiya and the twins were put to bed by grandmother, and slept in the sitting room to conserve firewood, the three of them laying on a down filled mattress, covered with woolen blankets and a wolf pelt. Illya would sleep on another mattress on the floor, nestled between his mother and grandmother when it was time.

Mama made steaming mugs of hot tea sweetened with just a bit of a rare treat, raspberry jam. Together the three of them sat in front of the hearth warming themselves, as Illya cuddled in his baba's lap.

Babushka rocked and sang to him, while his mother joined her in harmony, as she often did when singing together.

The clock on the mantle tick-tocked a steady rhythm, with oil lamps set on either side of it as it was nestled among the boughs of pine mama had brought inside decorate for the holiday, She'd lovingly tied one of her red hair ribbons there to make it look more festive.

Little lllya stared at it all, becoming dreamy-eyed until he was lulled to sleep, holding the pocket watch in his hand, with the letter from his mother now folded up, hidden within the back of it.

He wished the peace of this night would never end and fell asleep to the scent of pine, dreaming of Christmas and little prancing wooden ponies whose painted hooves sounded like the ticking of a watch...while the chanting of the church choir still drifted through his head.

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** watch?v=qK_cCh92Q8U&feature=endscreen&NR=1**


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